So Much For My Happy Ending
by Writer Rider Dirty Thirties
Summary: "You were torn between the choices of the family that had always been there and the new family that you loved. You had to make a decision. You had to choose but which would you? Love? Or family?" -Troypay
1. Chapter 1: The Hospital

_"Let's talk this over  
It's not like we're dead  
Was it something I did?  
Was it something You said?  
Don't leave me hanging  
In a city so dead  
Held up so high  
__On such a breakable thread_

_You were all the things I thought I knew_  
_And I thought we could be_

_You were everything, everything that I wanted_  
_We were meant to be, supposed to be, but we lost it_  
_And all of the memories, so close to me, just fade away_  
_All this time you were pretending_  
_So much for my happy ending"_

_**"Not all stories have happy endings." You said. "This is one of them."**_

So Much for My Happy Ending

_"Dang it, I'm late."_ Thought a certain twenty-one year old Troy Bolton as he rushed down the hallway to the front desk of the building he was in. The lady at the desk looked up when she heard the footsteps rushing down the hall. She was just about to yell at whoever it was until she saw who rounded the corner.

She smiled. "You're late, Mr. Bolton."

Troy slowed to a walk as he grinned at that red head behind the desk. "Laura, we've known each other for over two years, it's Troy. Just Troy, okay?"

She nodded. "Of course, Troy."

"So has there been any development with her?"

Laura's smile faded as she shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Troy. But there hasn't been anything new in months. She is still confused as to where she is and who she is and what happened to her. We've done everything for her and I'm not sure there is much more we can do."

Troy frowned but nodded. "If y'all done your best, then its okay. Is she up to having guests today?"

"Yea, she's up for it. I wish there was something more I could do for you."

"Me too, but what is done is done." Troy moved around the desk and walked down another hallway that he had memorized like the back of his hand. He had been here so many times in the past few years that he'd gotten real comfortable and real familiar with the staff and the building. He stopped almost automatically at the door number 63 and walked in. It was a regular hospital room: the bed, the chairs along side the wall, and everything else, but what made the room special was the person lying in the bed. In the bed was the girl Troy had loved since he was young but hadn't truly fallen in love with her until they were seventeen.

It hurt Troy to see the woman he loved so much hurt and in a hospital bed, but it was what was best for her at the moment. If he had a choice, she would have been at home with him, but it wasn't his choice. Not much of what had happened in the past which had put her in that bed had been his choice. He had tried to do everything he could to make sure nothing happened to her, but he couldn't win against what fate wanted.

Yes he was grateful that she wasn't dead. Yes he was grateful that she was alive. He was so happy that he got to see her living and breathing everyday, but he was still hurt. Hurt that though he got to see her, she didn't see him. She was awake yes, but she didn't know him. She didn't know who he was or what they had been through the years before. She didn't know? No, she just didn't remember. Amnesia will do that to you.

Troy walked deeper into the room and saw that she was up in the bed, reading a magazine about fashion and other stuff. She didn't notice him in the room until he pulled up a chair to her bed. She looked up at him and smiled a little bit.

"Hi there. It's Troy, right?"

He smiled; she hadn't remembered the time before. "Yea, that's right. How are you feeling today, Sharpay?" Troy said.

"I'm good." She moved a piece of how long blonde hair away from her face as she sat down the magazine.

"What have you been up to?"

"Nothing, just reading a magazine that Nurse Walker gave me. It's really interesting."

"That's good. What else have you been doing?"

"Well, I've been trying to remember stuff from before I came into this hospital. The doctor wants me to at least try to remember because it's important that I do because people need me."

"True. How's that going?"

"Okay I guess. I remember a little bit."

Troy's blue eyes brightened. "What do you remember?"

"I remember a lot of stuff from when I was little. I remember my mom and my dad and having a brother. I think his name is Owen or something like that."

"Ryan, your twin brother's name is Ryan."

"Oh! So I do have a brother! When can I see him? I don't remember much of what he looks like."

Troy's face grew sullen. "Um, I don't think that's a good idea at the moment."

"Why not?" She asked, a little sad.

"Nothing that you need to know until you remember. But have you remembered anything else?"

Sharpay thought for a second before shaking her head. "Nope, not really. Why? Is there something important that I should remember, Troy?" She added on when she saw his face.

"No, not really." He shook his head, but she saw the sadness spread across his face.

"Troy, please be straight with me here. You are the only other person I get to see other than the nurses and doctors that work here and I really want to know why. "

Troy sighed. He knew this day would come sooner or later. "The reason I'm the only one who gets to see you is because you're my wife Sharpay."

She stared at him with confusion and surprise. "I'm your wife? We're married?" She went on with out waiting for him to answer. "But if we are married how come I can't remember anything about you or our relationship? Why can't I remember anything about us?"

"Because of an accident that happened a few years ago."

"Tell me what happened."

"It was a very long time ago and it's a very long story. You might not want to hear it."

"I have a whole lot of time to waste and I really do want to hear it. Please, tell me about our past."

Troy looked at her for a long time before nodding. "I'll tell you everything you need to know, and I just hope that you remember as I explain." He sat back in his uncomfortable hospital chair and prepared for a long talk.

"Well, it all started back our junior year at East High, home of the famous Wildcats. My car had broken down and your car was my taxi…"

**A/N:** This is a new story I'm trying out so tell me what you think about it.

**R&R ****Please  
Bre**


	2. Chapter 2: The Day It Started

**A/N:** The first chapters are going to be a little rocky so just buckle your seatbelts and hang on because it's worth the ride.

"I wake up to someone ringing the door bell repeatedly at my house. I open the door and there you stand, wearing a purple tank top with faded denim jeans. Behind you stands your twin brother, Ryan. He also is wearing faded jeans, but with a light purple dress shirt and a matching purple hat.

"Hurry up, Bolton! Or I swear to God I'll leave your ass." You yell at me an I run upstairs and get dressed, putting on a striped blue and white shirt with dark denim jeans. I hurry down the stairs to see you tapping your purple three-inch stiletto on the floor impatiently. You see me coming and you stop. "Finally." You say but not before laughing at my appearance. As we walk out to your brother's car, you talk about how I'm fashionably challenged. I argue that my clothes are greatly picked out. You roll your eyes and get in the car. Your brother takes the driver seat as you take the passenger's, while I take the back.

We ride to school in silence and, with the exception of a little fight you and I have about your suckish choice in music, we arrive in the East High parking lot without incident. We enter the school and walk down the hall to where the gang consisting of Taylor Mckessie, Gabriella Montez, and Chad Danforth is standing by my locker.

Chad, or Afro boy as you like to call him, pats me on the back. "Why were you in the car with Sharpay and Ryan?" I start to say that you kidnapped me, but you shoot me one of your famous ice glares.

"My car is in the shop and they live closer to me so I asked them to pick me up." I answer as the bell rings and we head off to class which we all have Mrs. Darbus for: The place where this whole story begins.

Halfway through her class you throw something at my head, causing me to yell "What the hell?"

Darbus turns to stare at me and said, "That's a detention for you, Mr. Bolton, for disrupting my class." You start to giggle and she turns to stare at you, too. "You can join him too Ms. Evans, since you find it so humorous." I chuckle under my breath as you turn and shoot me another glare.

Later at detention, it is only you and me and Darbus. We are painting the set and props for the upcoming musical that you are destined to star in. Darbus is sitting off stage watching us work until she excuses herself to attend something in her office, but not before telling us to behave. As soon as the door closes shut, you turn to me. "Detention is so boring. I have so much more important stuff to do than this."

"You were the one who got us into this." I remind you.

"Whatever, Bolton. Don't blame this on me." You roll your eyes and unconsciously flick your wrist at me. Amazingly, your hand has a paint brush in it so when you flick your wrist at me, paint gets all over my shirt. I gasp and you look at me and, when you see the paint, you try to apologize. "I'm sorry." You say, but you're laughing each word. "I didn't mean to-" Before you can finish whatever you was saying, I flick some yellow paint at you. You gasp in shock this time as your purple shirt has a new splash of yellow on it. I start to laugh, but you throw more at me. It ends up turning into an all out paint war. We get up and throw paint at each other. You take your paint brush and smear paint into my shirt. I grab you from behind and push my paint brush down your shirt to smother your chest with paint. We can't stop laughing…until we hear Darbus' voice.

"What is going on here?"

We stop what we are doing and look up where Darbus stood watching us with angry eyes. As she marches to the stage, I feel something under my hand, so I peek over your shoulder-since I still have you from behind-and see where my hand is. I draw my hand back like it is on fire. You start to readjust your shirt as Darbus finally reaches us.

"What happened here?" She asks. We look around not able to answer. So she decides that you and I should come every Saturday for the next two months to serve Saturday detention. I groan inwardly as you try to get Darbus to change her mind but she is immovable.

"Look what you've done. You got us into more trouble." I say to you as she leaves us on the stage. You just roll your eyes and, after grabbing your paint covered purse, storm out the auditorium. I follow you because you are my ride. Now we stood outside waiting for your brother to come and pick us up. We are quiet for a second until you turn and glare at me.

"I can't believe this. This is your entire fault." You accuse. That gets us into the same argument as before. Next thing I know, we are in each other's face calling out insults. You call me a stupid basketball playing zombie as I call you Ice Queen and other stuff. Before either of us notice, my arms are wrapped around you and we're kissing. Your arms are around my neck and we're making out. I have you against the wall with my body pressed up against yours. I have no idea what is happening or how it happened, but my body sure does. So does yours. Your legs wrap around my waist while your hands knot in my hair. We don't separate until we hear your phone going off in your purse. You break off from my mouth, gasping for air and pushing me off of you so that you can answer the phone.

It's your brother.

You talk to him for a few minutes before closing your cell. "Ryan's running a little late. He'll be here soon." I notice that your eyes stay glued to the ground and I can't blame you: I can't look in your eyes either. Neither of us could understand what just took place between us and neither one of us wants to talk about it. We stand in silence until your brother drives up and we get in the car. We drive in complete silence for a while and Ryan notices the change in our normal atmosphere.

"What's up with you two? Why are you so quiet?"

"No reason." You answer quickly. "Painting is just so exhausting, right Bolton?" You smirk at me and I nod quickly.

"Right Evans."

"See?" You wave it off and turn on more of your suckish music. I groan and you look at me in the rearview mirror and smirk. I scowl at you before looking out the window. We arrive at my house and I get out, but before I walk away you yell, "Be ready tomorrow!" Then you guys were off.

The next day everything is back to normal and we're in the hall arguing when Darbus calls us into her office. "I've thought about the punishment I gave you two and though you did destroy my set, I find it harsh to give you two months. So instead, I'm giving you an alternative assignment. I want you two to do a fifteen page report about something in the history of the theater and turn it in two weeks from today." You sign at the thought of having to work with me for two weeks but accept her punishment. And that's why you are walking up to me after school.

"You're coming over my house right now so we can work on the project, right?" Before I can answer, you keep going. "C'mon, let's go before Ry leaves us." I follow you, wanting to be as over with it too.

**R&R ****Please  
Bre**


	3. Author's Note

**A/N:** Man, it's been a while. I know I've left both of my stories hanging for a long time but life just got in the way. Just so all my faithful readers know, I will be trying to update in the next month because I know how I hate it when something I like reading has left me hanging. I'm so sorry for the wait, but sometimes the inspiration to keep writing is there, sometimes it is not. Whether it's there or not, I will try to revive both of my current stories...if y'all want me to that is.

Review, PM me, or whatever if you'd like for me to update in the next month and I'll do it.

In the mean time, I would like a little favor: I just found FictionPress where I could put my original writing up. If y'all don't mind, I would like it if you would take some time out and go read the first chapter of the story I've posted and review and tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcomed and I would like it a lot. It's posted under this same name (Writer Rider Dirty Thirties) and it's called, As I See It. Thanks!

**Bre**


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